Hide And Seek
by happyday girl
Summary: Set in season 1. Dean decides to give Sam a present he may regret...they unwittingly unleash a trio of troubled spirits, with nothing good in mind. Suspense and hurt!Sam and Dean. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello!**

**So, this story is set in the first season. It's more of a classic salt 'n' burn hunt, but with a twist!**

**I hope you like this first chapter, please leave a review, I would love to know what you think!**

**Enjoy!**

'Come on Sammy, it's not far-just go already!' Dean Winchester poked his brother's shoulder, trying to coax him out the Impala.

They had parked the car in the main street of a busy Ohio town, just recharging their batteries after their latest hunt.

'It's not about how far it is Dean! Just...no' Sam crossed his arms and looked out of his window, pointedly ignoring his brother.

Dean had finished his coffee in double quick time, as per usual, and now wanted Sam to go trudge down the street to get him another.

That on its own deserved a refusal; just because he had returned to the family fold didn't mean that he would be Dean's personal slave.

And of course there happened to be the tiny detail of a street performer dressed as a clown standing right in his way.

There was no way on god's green earth that he would walk anywhere near a damn clown, let alone walk past it twice. Not for Dean, or anything.

'But I got these two! Come on Sammy, I'm thirsty!' Dean pretended to whine, pouting at his brother, before flashing his dewy brown eyes in Sam's direction. Sam stared nonchalantly back.

'Nope. They don't work on me Dean!' he grinned, raising his eyebrows before sitting back in his seat. There was still no way he was going to go past that clown to get his brother another coffee.

'Fine. Stay here princess, don't want you wandering off and straying into the path of an unsuspecting clown-you might scare it!' Dean chuckled, ducking out the car with a grin.

'Ha ha very funny-just hurry up!' Sam called after him, the young hunter casting an uneasy look at the clown prancing around just up the street.

He knew he was being irrational, but just as a precaution, he leaned over Dean's side of the car and pushed the internal locking system, and he felt better for it.

Minutes past. Sam sighed and looked at the map he kept in his jacket pocket.

He didn't know where they were off to next, but he hoped it would be somewhere more exciting than some of the stink-holes they had been working in the last few days.

He looked out the window, frowning at the clown as it honked its flowery horn, red painted mouth downturned in a smiley grimace, which always freaked him out.

'Come on Dean...' he muttered, feeling his skin itch as he looked out at the clown. He had no idea why, they just made him...uncomfortable.

There was a rap on the window, making Sam jump.

Dean grinned and opened the door, flumping inside.

'What's up Sammy? Clown got you all worked up? Your not going to cry on me, are you?' he chuckled, flinging a plastic bag on Sam's lap.

'Shut up-what's this, and where's your coffee?' Sam asked, frowning down at the bag.

'Just a little something I picked up for you...just so, whenever your alone, you never feel...you know...alone!' Dean chuckled, patting Sam's shoulder as he started the Impala and drove it down the high street.

Sam delved into the bag, pulling out two bright yellow walkie talkies. They both had blue antennas, and big orange buttons.

'What the hell? Dean, these are for kids-where did you get them?' Sam said, looking at his brother incredulously.

'A second hand shop. You know the cliché Sammy-I saw them...and I just thought of you! I had to buy them!'

'Gee, thanks very much!' Sam muttered, a smile playing on his lips.

'You're such a child...' he continued as he stuffed them back inside their bag, putting it by his feet.

'Oh come on, say you love them!' Dean pressed, grinning. He loved tormenting his brother.

'Yeah yeah...I love them...' Sam played along, knowing it was no good to argue.

'Yeah...!' Dean grinned, before barking out a laugh, steering the Impala in the direction of a nearby motel.

* * *

As they got out, Dean ducked his head back in the car.

'Dude-bring the bag! We can have fun!' he grinned, nodding his head at the bag containing the walkie talkies.

Sam stared at him. 'What are you, four?' he muttered, before shaking his head and grabbing the bag, slamming the door of the Impala as he went.

Dean winced, patting the interior of the car, before walking after his brother.

Once they had checked in, Sam using the alias Ian F Willis, and Dean using the name Gene Simmons, they made their way to their second floor motel room.

Sam sighed and looked around; it was the same old crap they were used to.

'Home sweet home...' Dean muttered, sitting heavily down on his hard bed, looking at the mouldy walls and damp stained ceiling.

Seconds later, however, he had snapped back into the old Dean persona, and clapped his hands.

'Come on then...give me the bag, I want to see my purchase!' he said, holding out his arms for the bag.

'Knock yourself out...' Sam muttered, throwing the bag into his brother's arms.

Dean grinned and pulled the walkie talkies out, looking at them in the light.

'Huh, they're pretty colourful-just your style Sammy!' he smiled, showing one to Sam, who was busy getting his laptop out to do some research.

'My sides are splitting' he said, deadpan, sitting on his bed and looking around once more.

'Hey, I wonder how long the distance is on these things? Let's try it out!' Dean grinned like a four year old as he passed one to Sam, before walking to the other side of the room.

'Dean, you can still hear my normal voice, go outside the room and shut the door if your gonna try this out!' Sam advised, sighing as he picked up his walkie talkie.

'See! I knew you wanted to play! I knew it!' Dean laughed, punching Sam's shoulder lightly as he made his way to the door.

Sam shrugged at his brother's back. If you can't beat them...join them.

'Ready?' Dean asked, before shutting the door with a snap.

Sam sighed, a strangely happy smile on his face.

'_Hello? One two, one two...calling Sammy...do you read me? Over and out!' _Dean's tinny voice filled the room.

'I read you loud and clear' Sam returned.

'_Right. I'll walk further...hang on a sec...'_

Sam sighed and shook his head. He couldn't believe he was actually playing walkie talkies with his twenty six year old brother.

'_Can you hear me now?' _Dean's voice once again filled the room.

'Yup...further!' Sam smiled, finding himself oddly enjoying himself.

'_...your enjoying this Sam, aren't you?'_ Dean seemed to have caught onto his tone.

'What? No! I'm actually getting bored of this now...come back, stop being childish!' Sam returned, annoyed and slightly embarrassed by his admission.

Static met his ears, and Sam sighed. Dean must have turned his walkie talkie off.

He threw his handset onto Dean's bed and walked off to his laptop, flopping into a chair and powering up the internet.

Dean would be back soon, he might as well be getting on with some work whilst he waited.

Suddenly, the walkie talkie seemed to turn itself back on.

'_HELP ME!...JAYNE!...HELP ME!..._ The high pitched sounds of a child screaming in panic filled the room, causing Sam to wince.

He ran back to the bed and picked up the walkie talkie.

'Dean? Stop playing around-that wasn't funny!' he scolded. Why the hell would Dean do that?

He waited for a second, and sure enough, the walkie talkie seemed to reply again.

'I can't see anything! He's coming Jayne! I don't know what to do!' it seemed to be a young boy on the other end, his panicky voice rising, his breathing ragged and hard.

Sam forgot to breath.

He felt a shiver run up his back, and he immediately ran to the door, flinging it open.

'DEAN! GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE NOW!' he yelled, watching Dean pelt down the corridor, a panicked frown on his face.

'What's wrong?' he said as Sam led him back into the room.

'Where you just messing around with the walkie talkie?' Sam asked urgently. When Dean didn't answer straight away, he shook his brother's shoulder, making him answer quicker.

'No, not recently, I was just walking back...I haven't touched it since you told me it was childish' his brother had a note of bitterness in his voice.

'Why? He asked, noting his brother's white face and shaking hands.

'There was something really weird on the walkie talkie...I thought it was you' he replied, picking up his walkie talkie once more.

Both brothers's looked at it for a second, before it crackled back into life.

'NOOO! NO PLEASE DON'T! I'LL TELL MY MOM! PLE-'the boy's anguished cries were cut off horribly abruptly, a small cry ending the child's final words.

Dean looked up at his little brother, his own face ashen as the brother's looked at each other.

'What the hell?' he whispered, sinking onto his bed, walkie talkie still in his hands.

Sam walked to his computer, all thoughts of research pushed out of his mind.

Who was the little boy on the end of the walkie talkie? What happened to him?

Neither brother knew the answers to either of those questions-

-but they were determined to find them.

**Whose the little boy? Why is he contacting the brother's?**

**Find out in the next chapter!**

**Please review, I would love to know what you thought!**

**Thanks for reading! x**


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Sam woke up as soon as the sunlight peered in through the ripped, thin red curtains of their motel room.

He hadn't slept well at all the previous night; the desperate sound of the little boy ringing in his ears and plaguing his dreams. They had to find out what happened to him...what did the walkie-talkies have to do with it?

He sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked across the room towards his brother's bed and frowned when he saw Dean wasn't in it.

'Morning' came a tired voice from in front of him. He looked to where the voice was coming from and spotted his brother.

Dean was sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair near the desk, both the walkie-talkies in his hands; his brother looked tired and drawn, as he hadn't slept a wink.

'You ok?' Sam asked quietly as he slipped out of the bed, padding slowly to the bathroom to wash.

'No, not really-I keep hearing that kid, I wanna find out what happened to him' Dean replied in such a small but defiant voice. Sam nodded, before walking into the bathroom and closing the door with a snap.

Dean sighed and looked down, staring down at the brightly coloured, childish walkie-talkies.

It was quite obvious they were dealing with a spirit; they both knew that-it was just, it was always harder when there were children involved. Who could kill children?

He jumped as Sam opened the bathroom door a little too hard, the door swinging back and banging on the wooden wall.

'Sorry!' Sam said, adjusting his shirt a little. He crossed to his bed and put on his coat.

'Where are you going?' Dean frowned, automatically standing up and following suit, pulling on his leather jacket.

'Well, we have to do research-but I think it will be easier and faster if we just go to that second hand shop you brought them from. We should start from there' he pointed out, crossing to the door and opening it.

'Great idea! I knew there was a reason I bought you with me!' Dean attempted humour, but it fell flat against his brother's ears. 'Ok, let's just go' he muttered.

They were both spooked by the little boy, they just wanted to get as much information as they could, and put the little mite out of his misery.

* * *

'Walkie-Talkies? When exactly did we sell them to you sir?' the female store assistant asked in a bored voice, a pink lollypop dangling from her mouth.

Dean tried very hard not to roll his eyes, but he resisted the urge and gave her his sweetest smile.

'Yes you did, two of them. I brought them yesterday afternoon, the dude who sold them to me gave them to me for a good price. Can I see him?' he asked politely.

He turned and grimaced to Sam, who tried hard not to smile. He instead rolled his eyes and sighed irritably-they had work to do.

'Oh I expect it was the manager, he's buff he is!' the girl giggled. She barely looked out of her teens.

'Thank you, but I just want to talk to him' Dean replied, trying so hard not to sigh.

'I'll call him out-Tommy! People here to see you!' he yelled to a dark room to the side of the checkout.

Seconds later, a man bounded out through the darkness, a jubilant smile on his face.

'Hi! We-err, we just wanted to talk to you about something I brought from you yesterday-could we speak somewhere private?'

Nope, Dean couldn't see it-this man was defiantly not buff. He had short, receding hair and he stank of body odour. Some people had weird tastes.

'Sure thing man, come on round back' Tommy waved them through, Sam giving the assistant a polite smile as he passed. She sneered at him.

Tommy led them into a small side room, and gestured for them to sit down, motioning two small wooden chairs.

'What can I do for you?' he asked, sitting down in a wooden chair himself.

'I brought two walkie talkies from your shop yesterday-bright yellow ones?' Dean began.

Tommy nodded, looking across at Sam, who tried not to smile, instead averting his eyes-he couldn't believe they were having a conversation about the colour of walkie talkies.

'Uh huh-what about 'em?' he asked.

'Well, this is going to sound strange, but-where did they originally come from?'

'Why?'

'Well, have you ever noticed anything strange about them? Like they would play by themselves, maybe you've heard voices coming from them?' Dean pressed intent on getting answers.

Tommy looked up, as if thinking hard, before looking back at Dean, looking from left to right, as if checking no one could hear him.

'How do you know about the voices?' he whispered, leaning into his seat.

Dean leaned forwards too, an eager look on his face. 'We've heard them too' he whispered back.

Sam coughed once, making the men jump. They quickly leaned back in their seats, both wondering why they had been leaning in and whispering to each other.

'Anyways...the voices?' Sam pressed.

'Oh yeah-well, I thought it was just my imagination, given what happened to the children who first owned them-but then it started getting regular, nearly every night...the same awful crying...it broke my heart, but no matter what I did I could hear 'em...those poor children...' Tommy seemed to be on the verge on tears. He cleared his throat and looked back at Dean.

'You heard more than one?' Dean asked. They had only heard the little boy.

'Oh yeah-a little boy and a little girl' Tommy didn't seem to want to say any more.

'What happened to them?' Sam decided to ask the sticky question.

Tommy sighed and wiped his eyes.

'They were murdered by their uncle. You must have seen it on the news? Supposedly the uncle brought the kids the walkie talkies, took 'em out in the woods to try em out. Once he got them there, he just picked em off one by one...their little, broken bodies were discovered later that afternoon.'

Tommy's voice pitched, before he turned away, rubbing his eyes.

Sam blew air out of his cheeks, his pale face mirroring his brother's as they turned to each other.

'What happened to the uncle, sir?' Dean asked, finding his voice again.

'Uh...he died in jail...good riddance...' Tommy said, darkness forming in his eyes.

'I agree-thank you for your time Tommy...you were lots of help, we're sorry to have bothered you' Sam said, standing up and shaking Tommy's hand.

'That's ok-what are you going to do with the walkie talkies?' he asked, moving over to shake Dean's hand.

'We're not sure yet...we'll think of something-thanks man' Dean answered, leading the way back to the shop front.

* * *

Later that night, Dean was up late, searching the internet for news on the children's murders.

Their uncle was one sick bastard. He had butchered those poor children in broad daylight, dumping their bodies in the bushes. As he read, Dean had to close his eyes, trying to quell the rising tide of bile building up in his throat. He had been exposed to gruesome murders made by the supernatural, things that would make hardened detectives throw up, but this...this was too much.

How could someone do this to children? _Children...?_

He looked up as he heard Sam moan in his sleep.

His nightmares about Jess dying had been plaguing his little brother for weeks; he hoped he wasn't getting another one.

He returned to reading, very hesitantly, but looked up once more when Sam moaned again.

'No...Get away from them...please...' his brother groaned, Sam's fingers curling into his pillow.

Dean frowned. This was different to anything he had seen before...

'Sammy?' he asked, moving over and sitting on Sam's bed, ready to wake him up if needs be.

Sam groaned and tossed around, eyes shut tight, sweat beading on his forehead.

'No...no no...Don't...HELP!' Sam shouted the last word, before he started thrashing around, pillow flying from the bed.

'Sammy? Sammy, its ok...I'm here...wake up dude...just wake up!' Dean said, holding Sam's shoulders and shaking.

Sam awoke with a gasp, head spinning from left to right before he settled on Dean's.

'What happened?' he asked. He frowned-his throat hurt.

'You were having a nightmare...you ok?' Dean asked, moving so Sammy could get comfortable on his bed again.

'Yeah...' Sam frowned once more and he tried to remember what he had been dreaming about.

'This is gonna sound weird...but it was about those little kids...the ones that got killed...' Sam said. He knew Dean didn't really believe him that he had dreams that came true; maybe he didn't want to.

'The way he tore those kids apart...' Sam shook his head and swallowed. He didn't want to think about it anymore.

'I know Sammy...I know...' Dean said, sitting back in his bed and staring at the wall.

Sam nodded at his laptop that was lying open on the desk.

'Did you find out where they were buried?' he asked.

'Yep...Fardown Cemetery, a couple of miles from here' Dean replied, nodding slowly to himself.

Sam sighed, sitting up straighter. There was no way he was going to sleep now.

'You wanna get going now?' he asked, looking across at Dean, a haunted look on his brother's face.

Before Dean could even answer, they both heard crackles of static coming from Dean's duffle. Dean had stuffed them in their when they had discovered their true origin.

'Danny? Come in Danny...stop messing around...I'll tell uncle Jack...Danny-your scaring me now...' the sounds of a little girl flickered into the room, her child-like and questioning voice making Sam's heart break.

Dean choked back a sob, shaking his head and looking down. Spirits were borne of violent death. They had two child spirits, both trying to communicate to each other. Dean didn't know if he could take any more...

'Yes. Let's go do this now'

**What's going to happen once the boy's get to the Cemetery?**

**Find out in the next chapter!**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, thank you for reading!**

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello!**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or alerted this story, they all mean a lot!**

**This chapter is shorter than normal, but I hope you'll still enjoy!**

The mist rolled down the plush grass hills and culminated in uneven clouds, resting gently on the ground, moving slightly in the wind. The moon peaked out over the silver clouds, sending moonshine into the mist, illuminating it as if in daylight.

Sam walked next to his brother, a shovel in his hand and a deep, sad feeling in his heart. He knew what they were here to do; it was just the _doing_ that was really getting to him.

As if by magic, or maybe a highly tuned sense to his brother's emotions, Dean turned his head towards Sam and patted his back once.

'You ok Sammy?'

'Not really-let's just get this over with'

'That's what I plan to do'

The report on the children's murders said that the crime had been committed quite some time ago; that was why Dean had picked the walkie talkies up from the second hand shop.

The report stated 10 years. Dean had heaved a mighty sigh of relief reading that-at least they weren't going to be digging up fresh bodies...he couldn't have done that.

They were here to put these poor little children to rest. They would be safer and happier when they went into the light; instead of the alternative eternal torment should they choose not to do anything to help them.

They had been walking for a while, each brother looking at headstones to find the ones they were looking for.

Sam cleared his throat and swallowed. This part of the job really sucked...

Dean stopped and patted Sam's shoulder gently.

'They're here' he whispered.

Sam looked round the dark cemetery, making sure no one was around to see, before he handed Dean his shovel.

Dean gave his brother a look, but took it anyway, closing his eyes for a second or two before stepping up to two small graves.

'I'm so sorry' he said in a low voice, before making the first dig.

Sam watched with someone else's grief somehow penetrating his own heart, Someone else's pain radiating into his mind as he watched his big brother dig up the coffins of the two murdered children.

Dean worked consciously fast, not wanting to disturb things too much or for too long. He just wanted to do what he had to do then leave, leave the town and state.

Minutes later, Dean hit wood.

He looked up at Sam, who shook his head slightly, looking around them once more.

Dean gave his brother a concerned look before looking back down at the grave.

'I'll do the other one now-it won't take so long then...' he said, more to himself than anyone else. He cleared his throat of emotion and bile, before scrambling out the grave and starting on the next one.

Half and hour later, and Dean hit wood once more.

He sighed and shook his head-this meant he had to do it now.

'We should take one each...' he said, loudly enough for Sam to hear.

His little brother gave him a pained look; it hadn't been three weeks since Jess had been buried, and he here was, about to salt and burn a child's body.

'I know Sammy-please? Just help me on this...your not the only one who's hurting here' Dean didn't mean the guilt trip-he just didn't want to do this all by himself.

'Alright-let's make this quick then' Sam hesitantly and gently jumped down into the other grave pit, Dean's shovel now in hand.

With a quick look up to the heavens, Sam jammed the shovel into the wood casket, splitting the rotting wood and exposing the bones.

'Oh man...this is so wrong...' he muttered, reaching into his pocket for his salt.

Trying hard not to look at the body he sprinkled it on the bones, casting a second's worth of a look to ensure he had covered it enough.

He closed his eyes and wiped them, before jumping back up to the grass.

Dean did the same, ramming the shovel into the wood to expose the body.

'Jesus...' he muttered, before quickly spreading the salt on the child's bones.

Once the brother's had finished, Dean reached into his duffle and pulled out the petrol.

With a grimace, nausea rising up his throat, Dean closed his eyes for a second before drenching both little bodies with it, before putting it back down.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter and a box of matches. He gave the matches to Sam and flicked on his lighter.

'I hope you find peace now' he said quietly, before throwing it on the body, the bones immediately aflame with oranges and reds dancing with the darkness, purifying the bones, sending the ashes to heaven, where they would hopefully be at peace.

Sam ran a hand down his eyes, looking away and he cleared his throat. He could normally cope with things like this, but children cases always hit him hard. This was the best way to help them; he knew that...he had to do it for them.

'Be at peace' he said, strongly but quietly, before lighting a match and throwing it gently down to the grave pit, the fire disintegrating the bones, releasing the spirit to heaven, to peace.

After a few minutes silence, Dean coughed, making Sam jump.

'Well-that's that. We did it.' he stated, before turning to Sam and attempting one of his Dean 'big brother' Winchester smiles.

'Yeah we did' Sam agreed, feeling a little better know he knew the children were at peace. No more pain, confusion or hurting, just safety, warmth and love.

'Let's wrap this up quickly, and then we can get outta this town tonight if you like?' Dean asked, picking up his shovel to start extinguish the flames.

'Yeah ok' Sam said, the two of them started filling in the graves, patting down the damp earth and grass once they had finished.

As they made their way back to the Impala, Sam cast one final forlorn, but relieved, look back at the graves.

'At least they're not hurting any more...' he muttered, turning to Dean for reassurance.

'Nope, they're not-and that's what makes our job worthwhile Sammy!' Dean said, moving over to Sam and giving him a quick one armed squeeze.

'Now come on, let's get back in the warm!' he said, making a beeline for the Impala.

'Yeah...' said Sam, watching his brother go. He was glad he helped the children find the light; it made him feel better in himself-maybe he could do this again, even after everything that happened.

He sighed and walked to the car, feeling himself filling up with some strange calmness and happiness, further radiated by the early morning sun peeping through the thick nigh time clouds.

**The end...or is it?**

**Find out in the next chapter!**

**Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed, even though it was quite depressing.**

**Please review, I would love to know what you thought of it!**

**x**


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was blaring in the bright blue sky, spreading warmth over Sam's face and neck.

He sighed happily and looked across to Dean, who was walking beside him, peering intently and curiously all around the small town they were staying in.

Sam had wanted to leave the town as soon as they got back from the cemetery, but Dean had paid for three day's board in the motel room, and, since everything was cleared up, it seemed a shame to just go and find another hunt. They had two days of relaxation before they drove off to their next destination.

'Ah-this is the life Sammy!' Dean said, closing his eyes and breathing in for a second, savouring the smells of a happy, content town.

'yup, it sure is' Sam had to agree, it reminded him of the days they spent as teenagers, just wondering around, mooching in and out of random towns-it felt good.

They had been walking for over an hour, Dean reluctantly agreeing with Sam to leave the Impala in the motel car park, and they had made the trip into the town centre.

Dean wiped the sweat that had been collecting on his brow.

'Phew, it's hot today!' he remarked, before standing still for a second.

Sam stood beside him, looking around. There was a small playground in the middle of the town, and the local kids seemed to be having a whale of a time on the swings and roundabouts.

He looked back to his brother and rolled his eyes; Dean had taken his shirt off.

'Any excuse, huh?' he asked, before chuckling and walking ahead.

'What? It's hot!' Dean called after him, before shrugging and tucking his shirt into the back of his Jeans and trudging off after his little brother.

After he had caught up, the two Winchesters continued with their slow walk through the town, not really saying anything, not really doing anything, just...being.

Dean had always said that he had Sam didn't need to talk to each other to have a good time.

After a while they came to the high street, the trendy shops and modern cafe's all lined up along two narrow streets, a cobbled crazy paving road separating them.

Cars lined the shops, ticket machines all in service; it was busy today.

Dean stopped and scoped the shop names. 'I really fancy...an ice cream' he muttered after a while, his eyes lighting up like a little boy when he spotted an ice cream shop.

Sam chuckled and shook his head humourlessly. 'what are you-five?' he asked, before shrugging and admitting defeat-he fancied an ice cream now as well.

'Yeah!' Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder, before bounding off to the shop.

Sam chucked and followed him, glad his brother was feeling better. The past twenty four hours had been really hard on both of the, but it seemed to have hit Dean just that little bit harder.

He waited outside the shop whilst Dean went in; he didn't mind which ice cream he came out with.

He looked across the high street, smiling at the flustered moms struggling with little kids, businessmen walking up and down with their briefcases. His smile faltered and vanished altogether when he saw the sign for the second hand shop. He felt a chill run up his spine, and he had to turn his eyes away.

He didn't want to be reminded of what had happened, he would rather they hadn't done it at all.

'Here you go Sammy-banana, your favourite!' Dean made him jump as he came out the ice cream shop. He put on a big smile and took his ice cream from his brother with a chuckle.

'You ok?' Dean wasn't stupid; he knew when his brother was worried or upset.

'Yeah, I'm fine, c'mon, let's go' he muttered, nudging Dean in the back to get him to walk.

Dean frowned at him, but started to walk nonetheless. He licked his rum and raisin ice cream slowly to start with, but it was so warm out it started to melt before he could even get a real chance to devour it Dean-style.

'Oh crap' he muttered, gulping down his ice cream, nearly choking on a raisin.

Sam tried hard not to laugh, but in the end he had to stop and have a chuckle, watching his brother lick down his ice cream cone so it didn't melt on the floor.

'Watcha laughing at, sasquatch-yours is melting too!' Dean pointed out, laughing deeply as Sam looked down at his own cone.

'Oh crap!' he muttered, licking furiously at his ice cream, managing to stem the flow of it before he could eat it properly again.

Dean smacked Sam on the shoulder again and continued to laugh as they made the long trip back to their motel.

They hadn't really done anything today, but Dean didn't mind-he got to spend time with Sammy, something he hadn't done in four years.

Dean put the key in the motel room door and opened it. As soon as he did, both of them knew something wasn't quite right.

Their radio was on, white noise crackling out into the room, the same with the TV; all they could see what crackly whiteness. The windows were wide open, blowing freezing air into the room.

Their duffels were on their beds and everything was spilled out.

'What the hell?' Dean was curious, but bordering on angry. They had told the room service people that they didn't want anyone to come in-why would they come in a mess up the room?

Sam walked slowly, an unnerved look on his face. He walked over to the windows and looked out at the car park below.

'No ones out there' he remarked quietly, looking back at Dean, who looked like he was chewing wasps.

'I'm gonna go ask the receptionist if they can see who did this' he said, walking to the door.

'Stay here Sam, I'll be back soon' he said, closing the door behind him with a snap.

'Sure-I'l stay...' Sam muttered darkly, before rolling his eyes and smiling at his own immaturity.

He'd clean up the mess, surely Dean would come back with answers soon, the least he could do was clean up.

He sorted out their duffels and dumped them back under their respective beds, before switching off all the electrical things and shutting the windows.

As he sat down for a second, a thought hit him-where were the walkie talkies? Dean was going to bin them on the way out of town, they had decided to just keep them for the time being, but he didn't find them cleaning up.

He scanned the room, and was just about to go search for them when the door opened once more.

Dean had a curious, slightly freaked out look on his face, and he sat down on his bed.

'So? What happened?' Sam asked, sitting on the small wooden chair facing him.

'Well, I asked the cute receptionist if anyone had been in our room, and she said she didn't think so, but she'd be happy to help me out, so she checked the CCTV of today in our corridor...there was no one, nada, all day' Dean shrugged, flinging his hands out, looking to Sam.

Sam frowned and looked around again. 'What do you think is happening?' he asked, looking back at his big brother.

'I don't know-I mean, it can't have anything to do with the kids, right? We sent them to the light, so to speak. It can't be them...' he said.

'Maybe it's not...' Sam said, ugly realisation dawning on his face.

'...Maybe it's their uncle, the one that murdered them' he finished, looking to Dean with a strange look on his face.

'Nah...It can't be...' Dean struggled to find solid ground for his words.

Sam was just about to say something to Dean when the radio turned on by itself.

They both jumped as white noise once again burst into the room, filling the room with eerie loudness. When they were kids, Dean used to fix up their old radio to white noise, and they would sit for hours trying to hear voices, sometimes they did, sometimes they didn't. It always freaked Sam out when they did hear something, he knew now that it was just radio stations butting into the white noise, but he really believed it was the voices of Dead people trying to talk.

Whilst hunting neither Winchester had come across genuine spirits trying to communicate via white noise-they didn't want to start hearing it now.

'We should go' he said quietly.

'What? Why? He's messing with us-if it even is the uncle. Look, we'll stay here tonight, ok? And if it's still like this tomorrow, we'll go. Come on Sammy-where's your sense of fun gone?' Dean chuckled.

'It went as soon as the radio turned on' Sam said.

'Chicken'

'Idiot'

'Bitch'

'Jerk'

They both laughed, Sam relaxing just a little. He didn't know what he was so worried about, besides, if anything did happen, Dean would be right beside him.

'Beer?' Dean asked, walking towards him with a can in either hand.

'Sure' Sam smiled, taking his beer and popping it open.

All evening they just talked. This kind of surprised Sam, because Dean was never the talking kind of man, even when they were kids. They talked about the past, childhood memories. Some made Sam laugh out loud, others filled him with bitterness and sadness, but at least he was sharing them with his big brother.

Nothing else happened all night, so Sam guessed Dean was right-he was just messing with them.

'Right, I'm bushed' Dean stretched at about eleven. 'I'm hitting the sack, see you in the morning Sasquatch' he went to the bathroom, got changed and got into his hard bed.

Sam did the same, getting changed into his bed time clothes, before getting into the opposite bed.

He put his head on the pillow and frowned. His pillow was rock hard in the middle.

'What the?' he muttered, sitting up and pulling his pillow away.

'What's up?' Dean asked, rolling over so he was facing Sam.

Sam didn't answer; he was too busy staring at the space his pillow should be.

'I don't believe it' he muttered, picking up the walkie talkie and showing it to Dean.

Dean frowned and moved his own pillow. Sure enough, the second walkie talkie was stashed under his pillow; he was so tired he hadn't noticed it.

'Huh' he said, an unexplainable cold dread filling the pit of his stomach.

'Maybe we should sleep in the Impala' he said, rubbing his neck. He was seriously unnerved, he just didn't quite know why. He didn't want to spend any more time in this room.

'Right behind you' Sam replied, getting out of bed.

'Yeah...' Dean said, looking at the walkie talkie before shuddering.

'What the hell was going on?'

**What's going to happen to the boys now?**

**Find out in the next chapter, which is where the hurt! Sam and Dean come in!**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thank you for reading!**

**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! **

**I am really sorry for not updating this as regularly as I should-I have so much college work to do its unbelievable! Hopefully it should stop soon, by the end of January at the latest (that is how bad it is!)**

**Hopefully this chapter has been worth the wait, I have at least another 4 or so to go, so I hope you enjoy those to!**

Early the next morning, Dean made his way back to the motel room, having shared an uncomfortable night in the Impala with Sammy. He quickly unlocked the door and slipped inside, putting his back to the door to close it.

He looked around; everything was just as they had left it the previous night; the empty beer bottles scattered around, the mussed up bed sheets as they made their hasty exit from the room.

Nothing seemed to have changed.

Dean frowned to himself and shrugged, before walking into the middle of the room and completing a 360 turn, as if trying to catch out the spirit in action. Nothing.

Just as the eldest hunter began to calm down, to put things into perspective in his own head, there came the sudden heavy banging of footsteps coming up the corridor towards the motel room door.

'Oh what now?' he muttered to himself, crossing the room once more. Before he could even reach the door knob Sam opened the door, walking into the room with two plastic cups of coffee.

Dean jumped a mile, putting his hand to his forehead to steady his nerves.

'Jumpy much?' Sam grinned, handing his brother the coffee.

'Shut up...' Dean growled, taking a sip of the boiling hot drink. He sighed to himself and looked round once more, as if to see if he could find something different.

'There's nothing here Sammy, I don't know what happened last night' he said, shrugging.

'Well, it wasn't our imagination, we know that for sure' Sam mused, drinking his own coffee straight down.

In the momentary quiet of both brother's drinking, came another sound-a strange voice, deep but quiet, slow but fathomable. Sam looked around with a frown.

'What the...'

'Shh...' Dean whispered, looking for the source of the noise.

He walked further into the room, leaving Sam by the door. By listening intently, he could just make out what the voice was saying, or trying to say, but it wasn't words...

'Dean? I don't feel so good...' Sam moaned suddenly from behind him.

...It was laughter.

Dean turned just to see his little brother drop to the dirty beige carpet, Sam tucking his legs to his chest and groaning, closing his eyes to block out the pain.

'Sammy! Oh Jesus...' Dean ran to his brother's side and fell to his knees beside him, grabbing his arm and clutching it tightly.

Sam turned his suddenly pale and sweaty face towards Dean and tried to attempt a small smile, just to show him he was still conscious, before an almighty wave of pain caused him to squeeze his eyes shut and turn his head away, burying his forehead in the carpet.

'Sammy?' Dean didn't know what else to say, all he could do was look down and watch his brother contort his face with pain, his whole body going rigid with every spasm of pain.

He pulled him up so he was resting against his chest, both arms round him for support.

'It's ok Sammy, I got you...I'll stop this...' He promised, looking around the room with a sudden anger erupting inside his chest.

He gently put Sam down back on the carpet, hating himself for leaving his little brother, but he had to sort the son of a bitch spirit out, once and for all.

He stood up and stupidly looked round for his gun. He cursed himself as he remembered all the weapons and ammo were locked tight in the Impala.

'Damn it!' he yelled to the room, before paling as the laughter got louder, just a little.

A harsh, long laugh filled the room, like a fell wind blowing through a dense forest.

He squatted down next to Sam once more, gently shaking his brother to get his attention.

'Sammy? Hey, I need to get the gun's out the Impala, I'll only be a second...' he said, his heart breaking as Sam tried so hard not to clench his teeth in pain, before nodding stiffly to show he understood.

'I'll be back soon man...I promise!' he said, patting Sam's shoulder before dashing out the room.

Sam lay where he was, unable to even move because of the complete debilitating pain that was coursing through his body like fire; his stomach felt like it was in a vice, cramps clenching every organ, his head felt like it was splitting in two from the pain-What the hell was going on?

What seemed like a lifetime later, Dean finally appeared in the doorway once more, in his arms was a sawn-off double barrelled shotgun, and what Sam immediately recognised as shot gun shells filled with rock salt.

'Alright you son of a bitch!' Yelled Dean, cocking the gun with ease, making Sam jump slightly with the sudden sound.

'Come and pick on someone your own size!' he challenged. In truth, he had no idea what the uncle looked like, he just hoped he was as big as him.

Suddenly, the laughter increased, becoming fast and breathless, now loud and ringing. Before Dean could even look round to give Sam a questioning look, he was flung into the wall, the back of his head hitting it with a dull thunk, sending stars erupting in his vision.

He slid down the wall with a groan, his hand reaching around the back of his head, before pulling back and revealing blood.

'Arghhh...' he groaned, but his eyes were immediately upon Sam; his brother didn't seem to be in any more pain, which was good.

The damn spirit was still not making an actual appearance, so it was going to be pretty hard for Dean to gank it; he just hoped it would show itself soon...

's-' before he could get his next word out, he was thrown across the room, his chest and shoulders taking the full impact as he hit the desk Sam's laptop was resting on the previous night.

He yelled out in pain, pulling himself away and trying to crawl to Sammy, but before he could, he felt something heavy and solid grab his leg, dragging him away from Sam.

With force enough to dislocate his leg, he was roughly pulled to the other side of the room before being thrown upright into one of the beds.

'Dean...' he could hear his little brother calling his name, but he couldn't even look round.

His eyes instead fell straight in front of him, at the discarded shotgun that had been thrown to the floor when he was being dragged around.

He gave a final groan and launched himself off the bed, his bruised and weakened legs threatening to fail him if he stood, so he crawled on his stomach, trying to be as quick as he could, all the while for some reason looking all around for the invisible spirit.

'Dean...' Sam gasped, turning himself around with a gasp of pain, watching his brother reach for the gun, before his eyes settled and fixed on the shadowy figure beginning to bend down behind him...

...shadow, but solid.

'Behind you!' He managed to yell, sinking back to the floor as Dean managed to grab the gun, twist around and shoot the shadowy spectre right through the middle, salt rounds pumping as the spirit disappeared from sight.

He sank to the floor, gasping for breath, watching the last of the free salt disappearing into the atmosphere.

He swallowed and looked across to Sam, who had a relieved but pained expression on his face.

'You ok?' he asked, standing up shakily and walking over to his brother, Sam shrugging and attempting to sit up.

'I've been better-the pain's going now...' he said, accepting his brother's hand as Dean pulled him up.

Dean pulled Sam close, supporting him as he swayed. The Uncle would be back, they had only made it angry...they had to kill it now.

'What do we do now?' Sam asked, looking to his brother for answers.

'We've got some questions to ask Dear old Uncle...and we're gonna get the answers we want!' he said, determined to finish this off once and for all...

**So, how are the boys going to get through to the uncle? Why is he suddenly attacking them?**

**Find out in the next chapter!**

**Thank you for reading, and please review!**

**X**

**Additional note...My story traffic isn't working at all for any of my stories, so I have no idea about the number of hits-I wondered if everyone who reads this can review, merely just to say they have read , really, and to tell me what you think? It would be really nice, as I can't see the number of readers who are enjoying my story.**

**I'll be really happy if you do! **

**Happyday girl**

**X**


	6. Chapter 6

Early that Same evening Sam and Dean returned to their motel room, after spending the entire day from 8am walking the streets, wondering what the hell to do.

Dean had jokingly suggested bailing, but was met by an icy glare from Sam. his little brother seemed more on edge than usual; but Dean supposed it wasn't every day he had been 'Internally' attacked by a spirit.

Sam had said he was fine, but Dean kept noticing the minute changes on his face as he winced, the slight gritting of the teeth as he moved too fast in the wrong direction.

Dean himself was fine; he had learnt how to cushion his body when he was being thrown around by a ghost, he didn't feel much pain.

And now they were back in the room, Sam pacing the floor while Dean opened a plastic bag and dumped its contents on his bed.

'This is stupid' he remarked. He never liked the method that they were going to try; it was for lame ghost hunters and teenagers looking for a cheap thrill.

'I know, but we are fresh out of ideas right now!' Sam snapped, before softening and offering an apologetic smile at his brother.

'We can only try Dean' he muttered, picking up the boxed Ouija board and twirling it around in his hands, sighing.

He and Dean had tried an Ouija board only once in their lives-Sam had been twelve and Dean sixteen, and they had one little go and they had been terrified to go to sleep as the board said someone would come and kill them in the night.

They weren't naive, even at that age, but it still scared the crap of them; Dad had gotten angry before burning the board when he found out why his son's refused to sleep.

Beside them, the wall clock struck seven; it was nearly time.

By rule, ghosts only come out at night, so they had to wait till the sun went down, and in the summer, that could be a pretty long time. Lucky for them a storm was brewing, so it got a little darker a little earlier.

Dean stood up and grabbed the box from out of his brother's hands and walked to the small glass table that they had dragged into the centre of the room.

He placed the box on it and turned away, shaking his head with a foolish feeling running through his mind; the last time they had tried this he and Sam ended up sharing the same bed, clinging onto each other to make sure no madman was about to come kill them. It was a scary time, and not one Dean was about to forget.

The back of the box said midnight was the best time to use the board, and that they should burn white candles for protection-Sam had made them buy white candles just for the occasion.

They had decided to use the board a little earlier; they wanted to talk to the son of a bitch now, and see if they could get him to give up.

Dean really had no idea what he was going to say, or what was going to happen; they would just have to wait and see.

He opened the box and took hold of the board inside it, pulling it out and dropping the box on the floor.

'I can't believe we're doing this...' he muttered to himself, placing the board on the glass table face up. 28 letters, the numbers 1-9 and the words hello, maybe and goodbye were painted on it in black.

Dean grimaced and placed the planchette on top of the board, on top of the other symbols.

When they had last done it they had used a glass; he wondered how to planchette would be different.

'Everything's good to go here Sammy' he said, turning to his brother and attempting a smile, but failing miserably-he had a bad feeling about this.

'Ok' Sam replied, before clearing his throat and nodding at the table.

'You wanna do this now?' he asked.

Dean sighed and shrugged. 'I say let's get it over with' he answered, walking to the door and making sure it was closed and locked, before flipping the lights down low.

Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out some matches; he lit the white candles, before placing them on the table and around it.

He pulled a chair out and sat down heavily, looking slightly fearfully at the board.

Dean stretched and also sat down, pretending to Sam he wasn't bothered, that he didn't care what was going to happen; he was actually quite scared, but he couldn't let Sammy know.

They had to sort out this uncle, he was an angry spirit who had harmed them-he needed to be destroyed and sent to hell...where he belonged.

The room was silent and the candles were burning, sending eerie shadows against the walls, throwing the shrouded images of the boy onto the floor, where they danced as the breeze took them.

Sam looked back down at the board, before casting his gaze up at his brother.

'Well, shall we?' he asked, wanting it to be over as fast as possible-he wasn't a wimp but he didn't like this one little bit.

'Should I chant?' Dean asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

'No thank you' Sam replied stiffly, glaring at his brother before putting a finger on the planchette.

Dean sighed and did the same, placing his finger lightly on the small wooden board with wheels, wondering what would happen.

'Uhh...Is anyone here?' he asked the room at large, looking intently at the planchette, which was placed in the middle of the board. Dean tried not to snort out loud, but it was a hard thing.

Sam caught his intake of breath' Alright-you do it!' he snapped, before sitting back and remaining silent.

Dean gave him a look, before sitting further forward in his seat.

'Ok...Right-You know who we're looking for, the nasty bastard who decided to attack us yesterday; come out you son of a bitch!' he said; he could feel himself getting angrier.

'Dean!' Sam whispered, looking fearfully around. He knew what Ouija boards could do, and he didn't want it to happen here. It would do no good for Dean to aggravate the spirits.

'Sorry...' Dean muttered. He cleared his throat before deciding to start again-

Before he could even get his first word out, the planchette started to move gently to the left, before encompassing the board in a small, continuous circle.

'You can stop messing around now Sam' he whispered, looking up at Sam, who had a slightly unnerved look on his face.

'It's not me Dean' he replied in a hushed voice.

'Yeah it is, now stop it, your giving me the jitters!' Dean grinned.

'Dean I promise you man-this is not me!' Sam insisted, starting down at the board as the pointer continued to move.

'Oh man...it's actually working...' Dean said, fascination now covering his voice.

'We want to speak to the spirit that contacted us yesterday-the one who attacked us in this room...give us a sign that you are here' he whispered, looking down at the board.

Seconds later, the one of the white candle flames was whipped to the left, as if a sudden breeze had blown it sideways.

'Probably the wind' Dean sniffed and disregarded the flame.

'On one candle?' Sam pointed out.

'Shut up...ok-give us a better sign, you did more than that yesterday-now do something else!' he ordered in what he hoped was a strong voice.

The Pointer started moving again, making large sweeping circles on the board, before finally stopping abruptly on one particular symbol.

_Hello._

Sam let out a deep breath-this was it, they had connected with a spirit.

'Ok...Who are you?' Dean asked, watching with newly found fascination as the planchette moved once more, slowly at first, but it was definitely moving to the letters. Sam watched as it spelt out a word-

_T...O...M_

It was Dean's turn to let out a shaky breath; he recognised the name-The two children were murdered by an Uncle called Tom.

'What do you want Tom, did those kids get away from you?' he asked, before forcing himself to stop; he understood the dangers of antagonizing the spirit world.

Both brothers's watched as the pointer began to move again, forming a new word.

_Y...O...U_

Sam felt a shiver run up his spine, his hair on his neck standing up.

Dean looked at his brother, a dark feeling falling into the pit of his stomach-this was what he had been afraid of.

'We're not scared of you-you killed those two kids...your nothing but a lowlife!' he said, glaring around the room.

Sam sat still, frowning at himself. Dean saw him and gave him a look. 'What's the matter with you?' he asked.

Sam blew out a breath; fine white gas erupted from his mouth, indicating a drop in temperature.

'It's got very cold' he muttered.

'Yeah...' Dean was about to offer some witty remark when the pointer started moving once more-

_Y...O...U...A...R...E...G...O...I...N...G...T...O...P...A...Y_

Dean immediately took his finger off the pointer, leaving Sam to continue holding the Ouija session on his own for a few seconds.

'Dean...' Sam didn't know how, but he could somehow feel that something very big and evil was trying to come through, and he didn't want to be the only one standing in its way.

As Dean watched, he took his finger off the Planchette, the wooden pointer skittering to the side.

Seconds later, it began to move by itself.

'Oh no way...' Dean whispered, watching with now scared eyes as the pointer continued to move, it's trajectory seemingly controlled by something beyond their sight.

'We should stop this now' Sam said, eyes begging his big brother to stop this, and end the session.

'Yeah ok' Dean agreed, reaching forwards to take the pointer off the board.

Before he could touch it Sam let out an audible gasp, his little brother launching off his chair and scrabbling at his chest, loud sobs and gasps of pain erupting from his mouth.

'Sammy!' Dean leapt off his own chair and raced round to Sam, while all the while being acutely aware that the planchette was still moving by itself on the table.

'What the...What...' Sam managed to groan out as he managed to get a hold off his shirt, quickly taking it off and dumping it on the floor.

Dean looked in horror as bloody scratches began to etch onto the skin of his brother's chest, blood rippling down to his stomach as the thin rivets dug into his pale flesh.

Dean looked back at the board; the pointer had stopped moving, and as he slowly approached the table once more, he could see that it had come to a stop on _GOODBYE._

He looked back at Sam, saw his brother take small shaky steps to his bed, and he sat on the edge, his hands shaking.

'Sammy...' Dean began, moving over to Sam and kneeling down beside him.

'Sam-'

'He'll be back, we need to do something now' Sam said in a surprisingly strong voice.

'Yeah...I know...' Dean said, sitting on the bed and putting an arm around his brother.

'Hey Sam...' he said, nudging him slightly.

Sam sighed, pain consuming him as the scratches burned on his chest. He wasn't in the mood for this; he just wanted it to be over.

'What?' he asked.

'I don't think we should play with Ouija boards again'

Sam let out a shaky chuckle, leaning more into his big brother as he laughed, Dean holding Sam close-he could keep him safe now.

'I agree' Sam nodded, before looking back around the room.

'I don't want to stay here tonight' he stated, looking at his brother.

'Me neither...we can check into another motel, finish this off tomorrow?' he suggested, breathing a sigh of relief as Sam nodded.

'Yeah ok'

'Sweet' Dean said, slowly getting up and starting to pack.

The last thing he left was the board. He didn't really want to pack it at all, but he figured they would bin it on the way.

He dragged his and Sam's duffels to the door, before walking over to Sam.

'Come on Sasquatch, let's get out of here' he said, holding Sam's shoulder as he stood shakily up.

'I'm coming' Sam smiled, walking over to the door.

'Hey Dean-we're gonna get this bastard, aren't we?' he asked, suddenly fearful-what if it disappeared?

'Sammy-you have my word, we are gonna get this SOB, ok? I promise' Dean said, opening the door and leading Sam out.

Before he shut the door, he looked back to the table.

He only wished he would be able to keep the promise.

**Will Sam and Dean be able to get rid of the evil spirit of the Uncle?**

**Find out in the next chapter!**

**I got all the information on Ouija boards from the internet, apart from the story of being too scared to sleep...that was something that actually happened to my Nan's friends-have any of you had an experience with an Ouija Board? Review this and tell me about it if you have!**

**Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys!**

**I am SO sorry for not updating for ages! College has gone into overdrive, and I was given work to do on top of the work I had to do anyway, and I wanted to wait until I was free of it before updating, then I could give my attention to this chapter.**

**Once again, I apologise for my lateness, but hopefully I can get back to almost daily updates!**

**I really hope this was worth the wait, I'm sorry to keep you guys waiting for so long!**

**Onto the chapter...enjoy!**

The harsh crackling of leaves and twigs crunched underfoot as Sam and Dean made their way into the woodland where the two young children were brutally murdered.

Sam looked around as an owl hooted overhead, the moonlight shining through the thick leaves of the trees, sending ominous shadows filtering onto them as they walked into the clearing.

Dean shivered and pulled his leather jacket closer, looking through the tick expanse of trees, trying to work out what they were actually doing.

As Sam began to walk a little faster to keep up with his brother, his shirt caught on the scratches on his chest.

He stopped and winced, closing his eyes for a split second; the scratches were deep and really hurt, he just hoped the plasters he had put on there were going to help for a little while longer.

He opened his eyes to find Dean standing in front of him, a concerned look on his face.

'You ok?' he asked, his hair blowing in the fell wind.

Sam attempted a small smile and nodded his head slowly. 'I'll be fine-let's do this now' he said, walking up to his brother and passing him, Dean following on.

They were going to the sight of the children's murders, and, according to the paper and official mortuary records-the place where Uncle Tommy was also killed.

'Run the story by me again Sammy? This is confusing' Dean said, his deep voice unwittingly making Sam jump, not that he would let it show.

The youngest Winchester sighed, rubbing his forehead as he walked.

'Uncle Tommy had been in prison for twenty five years...way too short a time...anyway, when he came out, he didn't tell anyone, just vanished off the face of the earth' Sam stopped as he tripped on a tree root, steadying himself just before Dean grabbed his arm.

'Dude I can manage!' he said, softening as Dean's face fell. 'Sorry...' he muttered, before carrying on walking.

'Anyway-when people finally got wind of his release, the locals took it upon themselves to go look for him...they finally found him walking in here, and when they got near they saw he had come to the scene of his crime, he was kneeling where had murdered those two little kids' Sam stopped as they reached a crossroads in the middle of the woods.

'Which way?' he asked.

'Uhh...this way I think...' Dean pointed to the left; the brother's crossing the path and taking the right path, a long winding road lined with trees.

'One of the locals had brought a gun, and he shot Uncle Tom at point blank range, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. It took eight shots to finally kill him'

'Good' Dean muttered strongly, shaking his head.

'Yeah-but, that was a pretty violent death...maybe enough to bring his spirit back?'

'Yeah, and we need to send the bastard back to hell' Dean answered, rounding a corner and stopping.

'This is it' he muttered, but softly this time.

Sam looked down at the space they had stopped; leaves were scattered around, the thick trees overshadowing the place. It was wrong that two children had been murdered here, they didn't do anything wrong...

'Why now?' he asked abruptly, turning to Dean with a frown on his face.

'Huh?'

'Why now? If this happened more than twenty five years ago, why is everything starting now?'

Sam had wanted to know the answer to that question ever since they started the case...how come all this was starting right now? Why not before?

'Maybe because we bought the walkie talkies? Started the memories off again?' Dean mused, walking forwards and scanning the area.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, but there had to be something tying the uncle back, something that was stopping him reclaiming his rightful place in hell.

As Sam made his way to join his brother, he heard a twig snap behind him.

He turned and stared back at the way he had come.

'What?' Dean asked, frowning at his brother.

'Nothing...it was nothing...' Sam said. He must be imaging things.

He walked forwards again, but stopped when he heard another twig snap closer behind him.

'Did you hear that?' he asked, walking forwards once more, coming to a stop just behind Dean.

'What, Sammy?' Dean asked, standing to face the clearing, eyes searching for trouble.

He couldn't see anything untoward.

'It was twigs snapping' Sam ended his answer with a foolish laugh. God he was jumpy-they were in a wood, of course twigs were gonna be snapping.

Dean seemed to have the same thought, he shook his head with a gentle smile, patting Sam's arm as he looked round once more.

'We won't stay long; I just want to make sure we haven't missed anything that could help us' he stated.

'Yeah ok, what are you looking for?' Sam asked.

'Well-if I knew that, I wouldn't be searching for it, would I?' Dean grinned, Sam chuckling again.

He put his hands in his pockets and looked around for something to help Dean.

He didn't know what they were looking for, maybe clothes? But it had been twenty five years; surely there wouldn't be anything left?

His thoughts were interrupted when both he and Dean heard sudden laughing from between them.

'What the...' Dean muttered, frowning at Sam as the laughing continued, deep, male chuckles seemed to be erupting from the ground between them.

Before Sam could say anything, he felt an almighty pressure on his stomach, and he was pushed back with so much force he lost his foot, plummeting to the ground with a hard thump.

'Sammy!' Dean dashed over to his brother, picking him up and brushing him down, assessing him for injuries.

'I think we should go now' Sam snapped, turning to face the exit.

'Right behind you dude' Dean said, looking quickly behind them before poking Sam in the back to get him to move.

Before Sam had even walked two paces, Dean was flung from behind him.

He watched his brother be catapulted in the air by seemingly nothing, before colliding with a tree with a sickening crunch, Dean falling to the ground with a deep groan of pain.

As Dean lay, dazed, at the foot of the tree, he watched as the leaves began to change.

They were beginning to rustle and curl, floating above the grass as if propelled by a large wind-but it was the middle of summer, there was no wind.

Sam began to make his way towards his brother, watching the leaves himself with slight fear.

'No Sam-stay there, I don't want you hurt too!' Dean warned, before he picked himself up with a groan and steadied himself against the tree he had been thrown against.

Sam obeyed, standing where he was. He could still hear the manic laughing, it made his skin crawl-they had to get out of here to send this bastard back to hell.

Dean slowly walked to Sam, not making any sudden moves.

'Alright-you've made your point!' he yelled, anger coursing through every fibre of his being.

This spirit had hurt his brother, and there was no way in hell it was going to get away with it.

'Let us go now! We won't come back!' he said, giving Sam a sideways look.

The youngest Winchester nodded, looking around, as if hoping the spirit could see, could understand that they were leaving.

The laughing seemed to dim, the sounds once more dissolving into the slightly more tangible sound of a wood in night time- it was still there, but very low.

'Did it work?' Sam asked, looking at his brother as Dean came towards him.

'We can only hope-c'mon, we've gotta sort this out once and for all' he muttered, limping slightly as he pushed Sam in front.

Sam did as directed, although he had a very dark feeling in the pit of his stomach that this wasn't over yet.

As the brother's made their way back the way they had come, the laughing started again.

It was harsh, breathy laughter, as if someone had just found something so funny that they couldn't control themselves.

Dean stopped and looked around, trying to pinpoint the source, but the laughter was everywhere and nowhere-he couldn't see where it was coming from.

'Hurry up Sammy' he muttered, walking faster.

He wasn't normally spooked this much by ghosts and their little tricks, but something about this fugly really made his skin crawl.

The way it had just hurt Sam like it was nothing, carving those scratches into his chest like he was its own personal canvas-it had to be stopped.

As they made their way ever closer to the Impala, a sickening feeling enveloped Dean's senses.

He let out a choking gasp and stopped, trying to catch Sam's back with his arm before he doubled over.

Sam didn't notice, and he continued to walk to the car, to get out of this place.

He finally stopped when he realised he couldn't hear Dean's footsteps any more.

He turned, the silence deafening him as he looked around.

'Dean?' he called, looking around, trying to find his brother through the twilight gloom.

'Dean? Don't mess around man-we gotta go!' he said, wringing his hand slightly, before running a hand through his hair.

'Dean!' he yelled louder, before walking back the way he had come.

He stopped as a thought hit him...it was silent.

_Where was the laughter?'_

'Dean!' Sam began to run, jumping over roots as he looked hurriedly around for his brother.

'Dean please...where are you!' he yelled, his face catching an overhanging tree branch.

He couldn't be far...he hadn't walked that far ahead...he didn't go too far...he would find him...

He began to get disorientated, his thoughts becoming jumbled.

What if the spirit got him...what would happen now...what if...

Sam stopped as he saw what was before him.

'Oh my god...' he muttered, falling to his knees beside his fallen brother.

Dean was lying on the wet grass, his knees hitched to his stomach, tremors coursing through his body.

'S-Sam?' he asked, teeth chattering as he fought to keep his head up.

'I'm here-come on, let's get you up' Sam had experienced this pain, back at the motel room-It wasn't very pleasant, he just needed to get Dean away from here.

'Arghhh' Dean moaned into Sam's jacket as his brother pulled him up, holding him close to his chest as he steadied his big brother.

'Your gonna be ok Dean-I gotcha...' Sam soothed, looking fearfully around for any more trouble.

'Come on, we gotta go' he said, half pushing, half dragging Dean along the path, grunting with his weight.

As Sam started to pick the way back to the Impala, the laughing started again.

'Oh would you just give us a break!' he growled, pulling his arm closer round Dean to get a better purchase on his leather jacket.

Dean opened one bleary eye, but he couldn't see anything. His stomach felt like it was on fire-he had to throw up...

Sam stopped as Dean's head fell forwards. He grimaced but swallowed a comment.

Instead he rubbed Dean back and began to walk for the both of them, which was heavy going.

'Come on man...just a little...farther...' Sam groaned as an almighty wave of pain overtook the nerves in his head.

He clenched his eyes shut and kept walking, Dean's feet finally seemed to be working, and it wouldn't be long before they reached the Impala.

'Yes...' Sam muttered as he saw the car come into view.

He fought off the immense pain in his head and ran for the car, Dean practically sliding beside him.

He gently put Dean down and rummaged through his jacket for the keys.

After he found them he raced to the driver's door, but as he opened them and cast an eye back to Dean, he saw with the thrill of horror that his brother wasn't alone.

A black figure was bending over Dean, the flash of a blade glinting in the summer moonlight.

'I said you would pay...' it muttered, before raising the all too real blade, Dean tensing for impact.

'HEY! Get away from my brother you son of a bitch!'

Before the spirit could even register the voice or start bringing the knife down, there was a huge bang, the noise deafening everyone, the slumbering birds flying from their nests in shrill panic.

The spirit disappeared in a cloud of grey, salt peppering its body, sending it back to the spirit world momentarily.

Sam held the sawn off shotgun expertly, before dropping it on the floor, running over to Dean and pulling him up to get a look at him.

Immediately, colour began to return to Dean's cheeks, it was slow, but it was happening.

'Sam?' Dean groaned, closing his eyes before opening them again, looking around.

'It's me...come on, let's go!' Sam said softly, helping Dean get gingerly up, supporting him as he hobbled to the passenger seat.

'I swear I'm gonna nail that bastard!' he growled.

'He's gone for now...come on, we need to get back to the motel and figure out what to do next' Sam muttered, folding himself into the driving seat and starting the engine.

As the brother's made their way out into the main road, the spirit of Uncle Tom reformed, the black figure standing behind them like an ominous statue.

Sam glanced out of his rear view mirror and spotted him. He visibly stiffened, before steering the car onto the main road.

They were gonna figure out how to kill this son of a bitch-

-Once and for all.

**Was it worth the wait?**

**I hope so- how are Sam and Dean going to get rid of Uncle Tom?**

**Find out in the next chapter!**

**Thanks for reading, I'm sorry for it being late, but I really hope you enjoyed it!**

**Please review; I would love to know what you guys thought of it!**

**Happyday girl**

**Xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone!**

**Ok, so this chapter doesn't have much action in it, but I hope you still like it!**

**Onwards...**

**Enjoy!**

Dean woke up groggily, slowly opening one eye to gaze around the room. His stomach still felt a little queasy, but on the whole he felt much better than before.

He rolled onto his back and stretched, before slowly sitting up in the bed, rubbing his mussed up hair.

'Sam?' he muttered, coughing to get his voice back to normal.

Sam, who had been sitting at the small desk by the window, immediately looked up at his brother, a concerned look consuming his face.

'Hey Dean-you feeling any better?' he asked, gently closing his laptop and standing up.

'Oh yeah, peachy...' Dean chuckled, swinging his legs out of the bed, smiling slightly as he saw he was still fully clothed.

'Your boots are by the door' Sam said, pointing.

'Thanks' Dean nodded, slowly walking to the small table and plonking himself down opposite Sam.

'You were out of it dude...I-I didn't think you were gonna wake up...' Sam said in a small voice, before getting up to fix them some coffee, making sure he didn't mean Dean's eyes.

Dean frowned before standing up, nudging Sam's back as he did.

'Hey-I'm always gonna wake up-you hear me? Always' he said strongly, moving Sam's shoulder with a comforting smile.

Sam returned the smile, before turning back to the coffee machine.

It had been so scary dragging Dean up to the motel room, he had seemed fine once he had ganked that spirit with the salt-but he had got worse the closer they came to the motel. In the end he had slumped unconscious next to him, and Sam had to use the fireman's lift to get him up to the room.

It had taken some explaining to the hotel staff, but he managed it.

Dean saw him thinking, and he didn't like it.

'Hey-you alright?' he asked, accepting his coffee and sitting back down, not taking his eyes off his brother.

'Yeah, I'm fine' and that was that. No more was going to be said-Sam didn't want the emotions.

'So what do we do about Uncle Tom?' he sighed, sitting down and facing Dean, renewed determination in his face.

'Find him and blow him a hundred new holes? Then fill the holes with salt and burn his ass?' Dean offered a child-like grin on his face, the same one his had used when suggesting ice cream a few days ago.

'Yeah ok Mr Hotshot, what do we do before then?' Sam ventured, a smile playing on his own lips.

Dean shrugged and looked around. 'Pfft-I don't know Sammy-but I know where we should start...we should find out where that bastard was buried, it was the only thing left off the coroners report for some reason' he said.

'Yeah, it's so if people steal it to find out where he's buried, to deface it or something like that, they can't-it'll be on a separate piece of paper' Sam replied, his law knowledge coming into affect.

'Huh. Well, that's gonna give us a lot of trouble' Dean sighed, putting down his coffee mug and rubbing his tired eyes.

'Nah...You just gotta know where to find the report' Sam grinned, standing up and walking over to his bed, pulling his boots towards him.

'I'm guessing you do then?' Dean smiled, walking over to the door to grab his own boots.

'Of course I do, you think I wasted four years of college for nothing?' Sam shot back, his smile faltering before it flickered back to life, the youngest Winchester reaching to the door.

'Right-let's go sasquatch!' Dean smiled, following his brother out the door.

* * *

The journey to the local library took a surprisingly long time; the large ancient building was out of town a bit, connected to the town by a series of long and winding country roads.

Dean stared out the passenger window, having allowed Sam to drive his baby.

'And your sure it's gonna be in a library? Don't you think people would go there first to find out where someone's buried?' he asked his brother sceptically.

Sam nodded, turning into the library car park, parking the Impala in a space on the far side, a short walk from the door.

'Yeah, I'm sure-would you really think of going to a library to find out where a killer is buried?' he asked, before getting out the car.

Dean did the same, faltering for an answer while he did. 'Well...no.' he reached the answer, scratching the back of his neck as he followed Sam to the door.

'Well there you go, they thought it would be safer, anyway-we have to make sure the record is even still there, it was twenty five years ago after all' Sam mused, pushing open the door and letting Dean walk through first.

'Good point' Dean replied, immediately lowering his voice as five or six stony faces greeted them.

'Sorry!' Dean whispered, waving nervously, before straightening up and looking at Sam.

His brother, who he could see had been trying to repress a smile, nudged him in the direction of the main desk; a huge wooden desk in the middle of the room, piled high with books.

Dean walked up to it and stood in front of the elderly lady librarian, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

'Hi, we're looking for some records that are...well...off the record...' Dean dropped his voice even more for the last part of the sentence, looking round as if expecting others to be listening.

Sam rolled his eyes and prodded his brother aside.

'Sorry, we're law students researching country town murders, and we came across the story of how two children where murdered here-by their uncle...' Sam ventured, watching the lady for her reaction.

The librarian visibly stiffened, before she pushed her glasses all the way up her face and clutched her crucifix that was hanging on her neck.

'Oh my...why...why do you want to know about that?' she said, obviously flustered.

'It's just for our paper, we don't need much information, just the basics, like what happened to the killer-'

'He got what was coming to him!' the librarian answered shrilly, before she seemed to force herself to calm down.

'I'm sure he did, we just need to know-was he buried or cremated?' Sam asked, screwing his eyes slightly as the woman grew red in the face.

'And why on earth would you want to know that?' she whispered, anger obviously spiked in her voice.

'We're sorry if this upsets you, but it's important to our project-is there something we can look at to find out for ourselves?' Sam said, putting on a comforting smile, genuinely moved by her reaction-this murder must have touched the whole town.

'Uhh...well...yes-over in the town history section, there's a few papers about it, we don't keep much...it's a stain on our history' she said, her voice trembling.

'Of course, we understand-we won't be long...' Sam promised her, nodding his head at Dean and leading him to the local history section.

'Poor lady... .' Dean mused, looking up and down the shelves for the papers about the murders.

'Yeah, it seems to affect the whole town-even after all this time...' Sam replied, picking out a likely looking folder and leafing through it.

Dean nodded in agreement, before he picked a book up and began reading the blurb.

'Hey, I think I found it-Thomas Bradshaw was convicted of killing his niece and nephew...the children were found in the local woods...when Mr Bradshaw came out, he too was murdered in the woods...' Sam said, reading aloud from the folder.

'Yeah, we already know that Sammy, we ne-'

'- Mr Bradshaw was then cremated at a simple ceremony the following week, no family members of friends attended...his ashes were then scattered at his favourite walking route.' Sam finished grimly.

Dean looked at him, dumbstruck. 'He was cremated?' he asked, not quite believing it.

'That's what is says here...yeah...' Sam agreed, closing the folder with a snap before returning it to its shelf, the dust falling out onto his shirt.

Dean blew air out of his cheeks, not knowing what to say next.

'What do we do now?' Sam asked the question, looking to his big brother for the answer.

'I-I don't know...' Dean faced his brother, his face white, his face expressionless.

'What can we do? We can't gank him now...'

'We have to find something that belonged to him, and hope it has some of his DNA in it' Sam mused.

'Like what Sam? A toothbrush? His nail scissors? He's been gone twenty five years Sam! Nothing is gonna have his DNA on it now!' Dean said his voice raising, causing people to start staring.

'Come on, let's go' he said irritably, pushing Sam's back and walking back through the library to the door.

'Did you find what you were looking for boys?' the librarian asked, looking up from her books.

'Yes thank you-have a nice day' Sam smiled, waiting for Dean to push the door open.

They walked back to the Impala in silence, each wondering what they could use or find to finally get rid of the ghost.

As Sam folded into the passenger seat, the two of them silently agreeing that Dean was going to be driving back to the motel room, he quizzically looked at his brother.

'I got nothing man' he said, shrugging.

Dean chuckled, shaking his own head and shrugging. 'Me neither dude-sorry for getting snappy with you in there' he said, starting the engine.

'Don't worry about it' Sam said, looking forwards as Dean steered the Impala back onto the main road.

'It's just-this case, it feels different to all the other ones, and I don't know why' Dean mused, not looking at Sam as he guided he car through heavy traffic.

'Well, there are children involved, and we just wanna get this over with as soon as possible' Sam pointed out, watching the shadows on the trees hit the bonnet of the car.

'I guess...' Dean said, while inside his head he thought of what they could use to finally get rid of the son of a bitch that had been terrorising them.

**So, what are the boy's going to use to kill Uncle Tom now?**

**Find out in the next chapter, which will have a lot more action in it!**

**Thank you for reading, and please review, I would really like to know what you guys think!**

**Thank you!**

**x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello! This is the penultimate chapter, so I hope you enjoy!**

**Onwards...**

Later that day, Sam and Dean arrived back at the motel room, armed with coroner's reports, police papers and issues of the local press from that time, as well as a family history of Uncle Tom-they guessed something in there would give them an idea of what they could use to destroy the bastard.

Dean immediately went to his bed and sat by his pillow, tucking his knees to his chest as he read, his eyes scanning down the coroners report.

'Hey...the dude had been taking drugs all through prison' he said out loud, reading from the badly written text.

'So? He deserved what he got' Sam said with a deadly finality, his little brother sitting on the desk, papers in front of him, as well as he laptop, which he was also powering up.

'Of course he does-but he seemed to be a pretty messed up guy'

'Good' Sam muttered, and that was the end of it.

Dean swallowed the bile in his stomach and continued reading. He skimmed the part about the details of the little kid's murders, he didn't want the memories-how could anyone do that to little kids?

He jumped when Sam closed his laptop with a thump, his brother massaging his temples, looking paler in the slowly diminishing light.

'You ok?' he asked, putting the papers down.

'I feel a little weird...kinda light headed...' Sam said, walking over to the window and opening it, taking in deep gulps of fresh air, closing his eyes against the slight breeze.

Dean frowned at his back; but soon turned back and continued reading, trying to quell the rising tide of nausea in the pit of his stomach.

Minutes later, he looked up once more after hearing a groan. The sun was now almost completely set, the wind coming through the window now had a biting chill to it.

'Sammy? You sure your ok dude?' Dean asked again, putting the papers under his pillow and walking over to Sam, putting a hand on his shoulder to gently turn him around.

'I-I don't...feel so good Dean...' Sam stuttered, his teeth chattering from the cold.

'Not again...' Dean muttered, grabbing Sam's arm and leading him to the bed, all the while looking around the room for signs of the son of a bitch spirit.

Sam sunk onto the bed, a strange feeling creeping on his body, overtaking his senses.

He felt an icy hotness pour through his veins, somehow making him shudder with pain and shiver with cold at the same time-this wasn't the feeling he and Dean had experienced before.

'This...is-different...uggggh...' he stammered, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the rising pain filtering through his brain.

'Different?' Dean repeated; panic now rising in his chest. He looked around again, this time to make sure he was in reach of his gun and enough salt rounds to make sure this man crapped margaritas for the rest of its existence.

Before Sam could even answer, they both realised that they were not alone.

The wind, which had been drifting in and out of the room like normal, making the thin curtain flutter in the night-stopped.

The curtain was stock still, as if it was suddenly turned to stone.

The room then seemed to heat by about 3 degrees, making the humid night air seem even stickier.

Dean looked at Sam with a worried expression on his face, before he suddenly started to act.

'Come on Sammy-let's get you outta here...' Dean muttered, holding Sam's arm as he walked them to the door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

'I swear I didn't lock that door' Dean said, grasping the handle and pushing it with a groan of exasperated anger.

'Come on!' he growled, before looking around, panic now clear in his face.

Sam closed his eyes and set his jaw as an agonising wave on pain assaulted his stomach, he felt his leg's go weak and he had to grab onto Dean to stop himself falling to the floor.

'Sammy? Hey, hey-come on...don't do this...' Dean carefully manoeuvred Sam to the nearest bed, before walking out into the middle of the room, arms raised and to his sides.

'Come on now you son of a bitch! It's just you and me now!' he yelled into the silence, ignoring the weak yell of disbelief from Sam.

'You heard me! Get your ass here! This ends now!' he roared, looking around, determination set into his veins.

Seconds later, he began to see things changing.

The wind started once more, but this time it was much stronger, almost hurricane force.

It filtered into the room before consuming it, sending chairs scooting to the other side of the room, Sam's hair flying all over the place as the huge wind picked up their blankets and pillows.

Dean watched as the reports and papers he had stuffed under his pillow billowed out into the room, crisp white paper flying everywhere, along with the papers Sam had been reading.

As soon as it had started, the wind stopped.

The silence was deafening, Sam leaning forwards, his head in his hands, groaning heavily.

'Alright Sam-it's almost over, I promise...' Dean couldn't offer Sam a smile, for he was suddenly pushed back by an almighty force, his back and the back of his head hitting the opposite wall with a dull thump.

Dazed, Dean stood up, shaking his head to get rid of the stars, looking at Sam, who had curled upon the bed, grasping his stomach.

This was getting out of control...this needed to end-now.

Dean gathered his strength and returned to his place, looking at the middle of the room.

'That's the best you could do?' he yelled, challenging the bastard.

Once again, he felt a huge push on his chest, before he was sent through the air, into the kitchen side, his back twisting, pain erupting in his muscles.

This time, it took longer to get up. The muscles of his back burnt with over exertion, he could hardly move...

'Dean..' he heard Sam's pitifully weak voice from somewhere behind him, and looked up just to see the huge hulking black figure of a man standing in front of him, his face inches from his own.

'_I told you to leave me alone!' _Uncle Tom growled, picking Dean's leg up and throwing him across the floor, sending Dean to the other side of the room, the eldest Winchester hitting his head and shoulder on the far wall.

With an evil grin and a dark chuckle of malice, Uncle Tom started to slowly advance, a knife now glinting in his palm, reflecting the very little light of the room.

'you want to know what pain really feels like?' he growled deeply, his twisted smile revealing grey teeth, rotted down to nothing more than dirty stumps, husks of what they used to be.

Dean struggled, trying to make his weak arms hold him, his brain telling him to scramble away, but his exhausted body wouldn't let him.

'It's like...being roasted alive in the pits of hell...and your gonna feel it!' Uncle Tom grinned, his stagnant breath making Dean Gag.

He squatted to his knees and pulled Dean up by the front of his jacket, Dean struggling to get out of his grasp.

He regained some of his strength, hitting out at the hulking spectre, hoping to knock him off guard...all he needed was his gun...

Uncle Tom wielded the knife with gruesome expertise; he certainly knew what he was doing with a blade.

'The first cut is always the most important-sets It up for the rest of the pain...' he explained, as if talking about how to work a car.

He slowly advanced with the knife, Dean desperately trying to move his head away.

Uncle Tom began to laugh manically as he drew closer to his first cut; his dead eyes seemed to lighten, as if this was all he really wanted to do.

Suddenly, he stiffened. He sat bolt upright, and, as Dean watched...he seemed to smoke.

'No!' Uncle Tom swivelled on his haunches and spotted Sam, who had managed to drag himself to the floor and grab what he needed.

On the floor, the flames crackling around the, were the two haunted walkie talkies, the plastic melting.

'You lose Tom!' Sam yelled against the noise-he nodded back down to the walkie talkies, Uncle Tom and Dean doing the same...they could all hear something...getting louder by the second, until it filled up the whole room...

...children laughing.

It was high pitched and heart warming, as if the two little children were having the time of their lives-they could distinctly hear the sounds of a little boy and a little girl.

'What...no...' Uncle Tom let Dean go, his body smoking more, flames now licking at his clothes and face.

'They're not scared of you anymore! We sent them to the light...they came back one last time to welcome you to hell!' Sam said, before putting more gas on the walkie talkies and relighting another fire.

This time it had an effect on Uncle Tom-he screamed out loud and clutched at his face, the smoke billowing from his clothes and body.

Sam watched as Uncle Tom effectively melted, until he was nothing but a pile of ash on the floor, his spirit already sinking into the deepest darkest depths of hell.

Dean let out a groan and stood up, walking over to Sam, his legs wavering and shaking.

He helped his brother up, the silence now welcoming and safe.

'Well done Sam-you just saved my ass' he muttered, swallowing hard, shaking Sam's shoulder with no hint of humour.

'It...Was-a hunch...' the pain in his stomach was slowly ebbing away, but he was just glad and thankful that it was over.

'Well, I'm glad you acted on it Sammy, I really am' Dean said, before crossing over to his bed and sitting down heavily on it, surveying the immense damage to the motel room.

'Well-I'll tell you one thing...' he said, turning to Sam with the trademark Dean-Winchester grin.

'What's that?' replied Sam.

'I am not cleaning this up!'

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter; now nasty Uncle Tom has now been destroyed!**

**Thank you for reading, there will be one more chapter after this, so don't worry!**

**Please take some time and review, I would love to know what you think!**

**xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello!**

**Ok, so this is the last chapter to this story, I hope you've all enjoyed the ride!**

**Please enjoy this last chapter, and please leave a review!**

**Onwards...**

The sun rose high in the sky the next morning, the surprisingly weak rays filtering through the curtains, spreading an off orange colour on the floor.

Sam and Dean hadn't done much sleeping the previous night; they both cleaned the room from top to bottom, making sure everything was as it should be, ready for the next patrons of the hotel room.

Dean, who was just making the finishing touches on his bed, making sure that he hadn't left anything behind, happened to tweak his pillow ever so slightly.

'Huh...' he muttered, moving it again and hearing the same crackling sound.

He pulled the pillow away, his heart slightly sinking at what he found.

Under his pillow was a family picture that had been printed in the local paper's front page, presumably from the time when the case was still fresh in everyone's minds.

He sat down heavily, looking at the picture, shaking his head.

It was a large colour photograph of the two little children in their garden, their little faces beaming up at the camera, their blond hair whipping around their eyes, so all he could see where their massive grins.

He smiled at the picture, his eyes welling up with tears ever so slightly. He knew he shouldn't be feeling any attachment to the case, but it was so hard not to feel.

He had never heard of the murder investigation, or known the kids-but the fallout from that fateful day was always going to haunt him now.

He ran his finger along the picture; thinking about the loss that those parents must have felt-he couldn't imagine it.

He jumped as Sam opened the door and let it hit the opposite wall slightly. The oldest Winchester stood up as if burned, before giving his brother a guilty look.

'You alright?' Sam asked, closing the door and walking over to the small kitchen area, putting a fresh bag in the small kitchen bin, before dumping their empty beer cans in it, all the way to the top.

'Yeah, I'm good' Dean muttered, folding the paper up in half, before placing it gently on top of the beer cans and standing back.

Sam knew what the matter was, he knew Dean was feeling guilty- but there was nothing he could have done.

'This all happened twenty five years ago Dean-It's not your fault' he said, reaching forwards to pat his brother on the arm for reassurance.

'I know that' Dean snapped, stepping back so Sam's hand didn't make contact. 'It's just-how could someone do that to little kids?' he knew he had asked that question lots of times, but he really wanted to know the answer...or perhaps he didn't, and it was just his brain trying to find out how the human race could be so horrible to each other.

Sam shrugged. 'He was a bastard, and he got what he deserved...isn't that good enough?' he said, before picking up the bag and tying a knot in the top.

Dean smiled at his brother's answer, he did have a point.

'Yeah it is' he answered, walking to the foot of his bed and picking up his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

Sam smiled at his brother's retreating back and nodded.

'You ready to go?' he asked as Dean looked out of the window, his brother nodding and turning back towards him with the trademarked Dean Winchester grin plastered to his face.

'Yup-let's go kill some more evil son's of bitches!' he grinned, before walking to the door and opening it for the last time, casting one more look around the room before disappearing down the corridor without a look back.

Sam sighed quietly-there was gonna be fallback with this case, he just knew it...maybe this was a good reason he came back into the hunting fold.

He knew Dean would never ask for advice or support-he wasn't that kind of guy- but Sam would always be there for him, it didn't matter whether he wanted him to be there or not-it was time he made up for lost time.

He smiled as he heard Dean's deep voice boom down the corridor.

'Are you coming or not?'

He snorted and shouldered his own duffel bag, before walking to the door and flicking the lights off, the youngest Winchester not even glancing around the room before closing the door.

He saw Dean with his hands on his hips, a frown on his face.

'I'm coming, I'm coming...' Sam assured him, hitting his shoulder as he passed.

'Good, cos I was gonna leave your ass if you didn't come soon!' Dean said mock seriously, before breaking out into another grin.

'Ok, let's go sasquatch' he said, clearing his throat and walking out the motel.

Sam watched his brother go, a small smile on his face.

'Right behind you Dean...' he muttered, before following his brother, waiting to see what the day ahead brought to them.

**The End.**

**I hope you've enjoyed this story, I enjoyed writing it!**

**Please review one more time, I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter and the story as a whole!**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviews, alerted and put this story on your favourite-they all mean the world!**

**Happyday girl**

**Xxx**


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